Just Feel Better
by Echante
Summary: Hiatus
1. Square One

**Contary to everything I've written, this centers around all of the girls in Friends, and it is not Rachel with Joey or Chandler. But read it. I think it's good. And leave me a review, tell me how to improve. People reading my last story... I think there is a few chapters left.**

It's an odd feeling, staring at your home and knowing that in a couple hours, it won't be YOUR home anymore. It'll be someone else's. She was feeling a loss that was completely foreign to her; which could have been true of any loss. Hers was a catered life, unmarred by the worries of money, or fears of society. They had always been privileged, and this bothered her none, instead it caused a certain amount of pomposity on her part. She was gorgeous and rich, what more could she ask for in life? Now, having been completely torn out of her comfort-zone, she shuddered, wrapped in a sweater that was her sole piece of surviving clothing. The rest of it had been pawned off, or confiscated when the F.B.I. searched her home.

About two month ago, her father had been arrested for drug trafficking and was up for trial. He'd panicked, and in the face of irrefutable evidence, he was advised by his lawyer to plea guilty. Following his plea, his house had been seized along with all of his property, and his family was relocated to an apartment with much less bravado, and in a much worse corner of the city.

"Rachel." She heard her mother say, and turned, not knowing how long she'd been lost in her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"We have to go now."

She paused for awhile before she replied, almost inaudibly, "Yeah. Fine."

"Don't worry." Her mother was saying, as she pulled Rachel into a hug, "Everything's gonna be alright."

A week later, five homicide charges were added to her father's sentence; if found guilty, he'd be behind bars for the rest of his life.

* * *

She watched as the movers took each possession out of her friend's house, and packed them into a moving van. She had been there when her parent's gossiped about the scandal, she had been there when Rachel had wailed and cried for her lost life. She had been there when Rachel lost her boyfriend because of her father. She'd been there… and then abandoned. Her calls were now in vain, and her visits yielded only a new excuse everyday: "She's sick." "She's visiting an aunt." "She's hurting." And they soon just became: "She doesn't want to see you… She doesn't want to see anybody."

She knew her friend was going through a lot, but it still hurt, especially because Rachel had been one of her only friends. She had trampled on her, and hurt her, stole any boyfriend of hers that was even remotely cute, and had used her. But she still stuck by her, and now she wasn't even doing that.

She'd also been proud to be her friend. She didn't want to admit it, but it was true. She'd enjoyed the protection that their friendship brought her, and the slightly raised status. Boys wouldn't make fun of her, because they all wanted to date Rachel. Girls would become her friend because they wanted to be Rachel. And she was above all the other nerds because Rachel Green was her friend. It was sad but true.

Rachel had her good points, she was strong willed, and would defend Monica to anyone, without fear of losing status. She was persistent, and had helped Monica lose weight, and learn to kiss. She talked about sex loosely, and would explain anything Monica needed to know. She'd set Monica up with her first boyfriend, and had paid for the dress she wore. Rachel was a friend. And soon she was going to be gone.

* * *

"Hey! Bitch! You ain't allowed to smoke in here!

"Oh no?" The blonde smirks, "What're you gonna do about it?

"Get the fuck out!" He yelled.

"You can't do that!"

"This is my fucking bar. I can do whatever I want." He said as he grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey! Let go!"

"Get out!" He said, as he dragged her across the room and threw her out the door. She landed with a thump; a few seconds latter, her lighter and a pack of cigarettes flew after her, and pegged her in the face. She picked herself up just in time to see a moving truck saunter by, not looking as if it were in any sort of hurry. And then it was followed by a green car. In it sat a woman, who was dressed in shaggy clothing, but was made up like a queen. She sat with her shoulders straight and her head up. She was impatiently honking her horn at the other car, but Phoebe couldn't understand why she didn't just go around it.

Her eyes moved to the other occupants of the car. Three girls, two of which, were busy yelling at each other, and the other, who was sitting on the side facing Phoebe, was staring out the window. She almost dropped her cigarettes when she saw her face. The woman was beautiful. Living on the streets didn't allow the people around her to get their teeth fixed, and their hair done, and this girl, although a little ragged now, had obviously had both. That, added with her natural beauty, had made her a knock out.

She was interrupted when the bartender behind her started shouting, "What're you still doing here? Get out!"

"Okay, Okay."

* * *

She stared out of her window. Her sisters were fighting… again. Her mother was honking madly at their moving van, and she'd lost all energy a couple of hours ago. They were nearing their destination, and the scenery was starting to devastate her. It seemed that the town had been sucked of all color. When night came it would be repainted neon, flashing the names of bars and sports joints, and illuminating the hookers camped in front of them.

She slowly became aware of a girl staring at her, and she stared right back. The girl had blonde hair, lighter then hers, and a slightly pointed chin. She was holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and was being yelled at by a man doning an apron. She seemed to be ignoring the man, and instead fixing her gaze on Rachel. But this didn't intimidate her. Rachel was not one for intimidation. Their gaze locked for a slight moment before the girl turned to face the man behind her, and then scrambled away. Rachel turned her gaze aside and instead examined the trees, and noticed the changing of shades in their leaves.

If she had been a philosophical person, she would have probably reflected on the representation of autumn and her situation. The leaves were changing, and so was her life. But she wasn't a spiritual person at all, so instead, her mind was swirling with dark thoughts of anger, and fear, and frustration. Why the hell were her sisters being so fucking loud? Didn't they know they'd lost everything? She sighed, and resumed feeling sorry for herself.

* * *

Monica stepped on the scale, putting herself through her weekly ritual which brought fear to her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them a slit, to see what numbers the arrow was now pointing to. She froze. In one week, she had put on four pounds. Slowly, she got off the scale, and went into her room.

And hour later, when her mother called her to come down to dinner, she would reply, "I'm not hungry Mom!" and stay exactly where she was.

* * *

Phoebe, seeing as she had nowhere to go, decided to follow the car with the beautiful girl inside. She was drawn to her somehow, through the loneliness she could sense in the girl's eyes; loneliness that matched her own.

Ever since her mother decided to stick her head in an oven and cremate herself, and her step-father stabbed a man and wound up in prison, she had been feeling slightly lonely. Not an overwhelming sense of loneliness though, loss was not foreign to her, and people died everyday in her life, or got arrested for murder, or got shot in gang warfare. It was part of her life. She'd long since accepted her fate, and had accepted the fact that she wouldn't live past twenty-five. It didn't bother her.

She made her money doing what every whore on the street did: prostitution. On weekends she would hang around the Cat-Scratch club, and would get her customers right off the street. On weekdays, she would try her luck on the subway, playing guitar for those who would listen. But eventually, when she found that she'd get more money to stop playing then to play, It didn't bother her in the least, she would just stop playing.

She wasn't easily bothered.

* * *

"Rachel, can you give the movers a hand with those boxes?" her mom asked.

She stared at her in shock, "Mother!" she protested.

Her mother took her aside, and grabbed her shoulders softly but firmly, saying, "Rachel, we're not in Long Island anymore. We don't have any power, we don't a house, and we don't have any clothing. You'll have to learn to live without that life. Suck it up. We were terrible parents to you. We spoiled you rotten. It's time to correct that."

Rachel only scoffed and turned; she picked up a box, but made a big show of lifting it, and carrying it inside, not looking back. Her mother sighed and then turned behind her to give the same talk to both of her sisters, who responded with protesting and fake crying.

An hour later, when all of the boxes had been taken in, and moved up five flights of stairs, Rachel retreated halfway down the fire escape, to a level that's corresponding apartment was empty, and sat on the flat platform.

Suddenly, below her emerged the same blonde haired girl who'd been staring at her earlier. She watched as the girl mounted the stairs and started climbing towards her. Under normal circumstances, she would have been surprised or even indignant. But now, shaken beyond caring, she only gave the girl a quick glance, and returned to her nonchalance.

The girl reached her platform and sat herself down beside her. Rachel didn't say anything, but only continued to stare out into the city. She felt the blonde beside her stare in the same direction. Eventually the girl opened her mouth to speak, and it came out in a whisper, "What's over there?"

Rachel turned to look at her, and then said, "I don't know."

"Oh. Then why you looking there?"

Rachel shrugged, "I don't know."

"What are you stupid?" she asked.

Rachel laughed but then stopped when she realized that the girl beside her genuinely wanted to know, so she sobered and shrugged, "Maybe so."

The girl beside her earnestly said, "It's okay you know. I am too."

Rachel smiled despite herself and said, "Okay."

The strange girl stuck her hand out and said, "My name is Phoebe. Phoebe Buffay."

She smiled and replied, "Rachel."

Phoebe obviously wanted more, because she looked as if she were about to burst, so Rachel carefully added, "Rachel Green."

Suddenly Phoebe's rosy smiling face was replaced with ashen gray, and fear spread across her easy features. Slowly she forced out the words, "So… would your dad be… Richard Green."

Rachel's face turned confused… "Uh… No why?"

"Oh… Nothin… I just had a Richard Green who was one of my… customers."

Confusion turned to shock on Rachel's face as she murmured, "Oh... As in…"

Phoebe looked away and nodded.

"So… you are a…"

Phoebe nodded again.

"Oh. Okay…"

She kept nodding, even after Rachel finished asking questions. Finally Rachel put a hand on her head to steady her, shock still written on both faces.

* * *

She stared at the meal in front of her; her mother had busted her ass to create her favorite meal for her daughter's birthday. Pasta, laden with thick, creamy alfredo sauce, topped with chicken and shrimp. Monica knew that by the end of the hour, all of that food would be down her system, no matter how much will power she thought she had. And it was, her family was bringing out cake, and singing happy birthday, when she stole away.

She sat herself down in front of the toilet, and stuck a finger down her throat. Five minutes latter, she left the bathroom, ghostly pale, but feeling so much better.

* * *

"So how did you two meet?" Her mom was asking them.

They exchanged glances and Rachel finally spoke, "Well… Phoebe lives around here, so…"

"Yeah, I saw your moving van and thought I'd just say 'hi.'" She said, surprisingly containing the accent that Rachel thought was permanent.

"So where do you go to school?"

"School…" Phoebe replied, hesitating, "Oh yeah… School… Um…"

"Phoebe doesn't go to school." Rachel answered, with slight malice in her voice.

Her mom said softly, "Rachel, honey, I'm not going to let you drop out of school."

"Why not? I'm stuck in this hell hole anyways! What good could school do me?"

"We are not having this discussion now."

"Fine."

"Good."

Meanwhile Phoebe sat there happily laughing, both face turned to stare at the offender, communicating a "What the hell?" expression.

"I'm sorry!" she replied, "I've never had a family fight before!" she paused then added, "Its fun!"

"Right…"

"Go on!"

"Um… I think we're done Pheebs."

"Oh goody! You know my nickname!"

"Yeah…"

"They didn't know what my nickname was... I had to tell them." she informed Rachel earnestly.

"That's great." Rachel replied with fake enthusiasm.

Phoebe stood up and walked over to Rachel and gave her a hug saying, "You are so the best thing that's ever happened to me."


	2. My Slate is Clear

**Seriously people... REVIEW!**

**Chapter 2: Phoebe**

Sometimes I wonder where I came from. I don't really buy that I was born here, when I feel like my beginning was somewhere more exciting! Like France or Africa. My real mother was a Russian bounty hunter, hiding from the Soviet Union in a small French town, and she met my father, who would have been a fisherman, or an ironsmith, or something rugged, and they would have eloped, and had me. And then through some sort of tragedy, I ended up in America, with this dysfunctional excuse of a family. My real mother loved me. I'm sure of that, she wouldn't have killed herself. Not while I was alive.

When she died, I was nine years old. No one should ever have to live with the guilt of losing a parent that young. Sympathy was what eventually clued me into the fact that I'd killed her. Well, actually it was a throng of well meaning mourners proclaiming, 'It couldn't have been your fault honey!' that convinced me it was. When people want to hide the truth from you, they usually stress the lie, as if that makes it more believable.

But what could I have done that was so horrible that she would horrible that she would take her own life? I must have been a terrible kid. Or maybe my sister was. Either way, I've always thought that if I resurrect her, and talk to her, maybe I could convince her to stay. Rachel reminds me of her, they have the same long, dirty blonde hair, they smile the same, and whenever I'm upset Rachel hugs me like my mom used to. But Rachel's not street, or from the city like me. She's full on from the 'burbs. It must be nice to have everything your heart desires, but it makes people bitchy. I mean, it's always too hot or too cold, or her house is too shitty, the boys are too rough… blah, blah, blah!

One time I brought her where I work, but we had to leave because she laughed at the bartender.

She's good with clothes though. After initially looking at her 'Goodwill shit,' as she called it, with disgust, she took out a pair of scissors and a sewing needle and fixed it all. She can make a pair of guys jeans look good, and can change sweaters into tube tops.

Then I brought her to meet my gang. She showed up in tight dark jeans, boots, and like half a top. Her head was high and her boots made clicking sounds against the pavement. As she approached, the guys sat straighter, and the girls fixed her with icy stares. Joey, who is pretty much our leader, jumped down from his perch and looked her over and then turned to me saying, "Pheebs, who the fuck is this?"

"My name is Rachel!" She said indignantly.

"Ooh! This piece of ass talks!" He whooped.

"Who do you think you are!" Rachel cried, while others giggled.

"What the fuck do you think you are?" Joey shot back.

"Nice one…" she retorted.

"Oooh! We have a witty one ladies and gentlemen!" Joey said, as he faced the others.

I watched Rachel set her jaw determinedly, convinced not to give in, but I couldn't take much more, so I intervened, "Joey!" I protested, "Be nice!" and then turning to Rachel I said, "He's just playing you." But she still glared at him suspiciously.

He laughed and said, "She's right. Any friend of Pheeb's is welcome." And then he extended his hand which she took gingerly. After that was settled, I introduced her to each of my friends in turn, with Joey adding his own narration. "This is Rose." I would say, and Joey would wink and whisper to her, "She's a tranny."

Rachel looked horrified at his openness, but Rose only winked and said, "You know it babe."

"That's Mitch over by the dumpster," I continued, while Joey added, "Don't piss him off, he'll have fucked you over before you could say 'shit.'" Rachel recoiled slightly, and shuddered when he flashed a toothy smile, baring pointed and broken teeth.

"Um… Roseleen works with me at the club," I said, as she walked up to Rachel getting a smack on the behind from Joey who after staring appreciatively said, "nice piece of ass there." Rachel looked disgusted but Roseleen only giggled.

"Rusty is our car mechanic," I said, and I watched him smile shyly at her, and she blushed. Joey, taking no notice of this whispered to her, "Don't be fooled by the body and the looks and stuff, he's the smartest one here…" he paused and then added, "That's not saying much, oh and our pretty boy is a model too!" She looked up at him shyly and murmured, "Nice to meet you." He only grinned.

"April here," I continued on, "is our French." She walked up to Rachel, but only offered a limp hand, and then looked her up and down muttering French profanity. Rachel spoke back to her in clear French, and she paled, turning away and mumbling, "Nice to meet you too."

Then in turn I introduced her to Cece, Randy, Jake, Buster, Benny, and Sam. And in turn, she shook each hand. "Is anyone missing?" I finally asked.

"Jenny and Casey are off fuckin'." Roseleen offered.

"No shit." Howled Joey.

"You can meet them later." I said, ignoring Joey's whoops.

Later, I took Joey aside. "Hey Joe?"

"Hey Pheebs, we still on for tonight?"

"Yeah." I said distractedly, adding, "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

I bit my lip and then said, "Stay away from Rach?"

He looked up surprised, "Sure. Why?"

"She's not like us Joe. She's innocent. She won't even fuck for money. You know?" I paused and then took a deep breathe and said, "It still means something to her… So I don't want to ruin that…"

"Yeah. Okay." He grumbled.

"Good."

But then he looked over to where Rachel was standing, and grinned wickedly, "I can't promise you Rusty though! That bastard likes her! It's about time, we were getting to think he was gay." And I followed his gaze to where Rusty was standing, a lopsided smile on his face as she was giggling and telling him a story.

I grinned saying, "Looks like pretty boy has found a pretty girl."

"Yeah." Joey agreed, and then he said, "Look I gotta go, April is promising good things."

"Man-whore!" I called out, and he gave me the finger as he trotted off.

* * *

An hour later I was bored out of my mind. Rusty was still drooling all over Rachel, and she was pretty much doing the same. Everyone else was busy fighting over a stupid card game. So I decided I'd try and find Joey and see if he was done. But as I approached his car, I could hear voices so I hid behind a dumpster.

"I don't like her," came from April, her thick French accent sharply hitting each word as she spoke.

Joey laughed, "Why not?"

"She…" I could imagine her crinkling her nose as she thought of the right word, she finally came up with, "she's too… you know… goody-goody." She emphasized each

"Well yeah. Didn't you hear Pheobe? She used to be rich?"

"Then we should make some money off of her!"

"Used to be, darling."

"I'm just saying!" The accent pierced into my head again, shrill and violent, "I'm just saying that she may as well be useful around here. You said she won't strip, and she's a little weak-assed for my liking."

"Why don't you like her?"

"I just said!"

"That can't be true," they had stopped walking by now, "Rusty used to be rich and you like him."

I took a quick peek and saw April turn crimson, interesting. "That's not the same!" she was saying.

"How?"

"Rachel is… spoiled!"

Joey only laughed.

"I mean it!"

"Are you jealous?"

"I just… I just don't like her Joey!"

"Well I'm sorry April." He said firmly, "But she stays."

"Yeah I know." She grumbled, but I could see her eyes already planning. I was scared to death.


	3. Rest Your Head on Me My Dear

**If you want to know who I based Rusty off of, then pm me. If not then picture the hottest guy you've ever seen, dye his hair brown and you have him! Other than that review!! **

**Chapter 3: Rachel**

I find myself staring at the phone more and more, half-heartedly wishing she'd call, and knowing that she won't. I'd closed that door long ago, told her I didn't want anything to do with her. I was too embarrassed by the whole scandal to show my face at school, and too embarrassed to face anything from the life I used to have: including my best friend; the one who had been too nerdy to even associate with my other friends. But it's not them that I'm thinking of, it's Monica.

And yesterday I met a guy! A guy who is five times hotter then Chip Matthews will ever be! And I've been dying to tell someone about him, to the point that I'm seriously considering just picking up the phone and pretending like nothing ever happened. Would that be crazy? Probably.

I pick up the phone though and dial, determined to fix things. As I sit and wait, the phone rings twice before I hear, "Hello?"

"Hi is Monica there?" I say to her mother.

"Rachel?" She questions.

"Yeah." I confirm.

"Oh dear… Sweetie, Monica is in the hospital, do you think you can make it?"

I panic and make a mad dash for the door, not even bothering to get on a bus or hail a cab. But as soon as I've sprinted about half a mile down the road, I realize that there's no way I can make it there running, and I don't have any money. Just as I'm about to freak out and run home, Rusty pulls up beside me. He grins his model grin at me and I feel my stomach flip a bit. "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he's asking me.

I smile up at him sheepishly, "Yeah. Can you afford to go out to Long Island?" I asked, "My friend's in the hospital."

His grin turns to a look of alarm as he says, "of course! Get in."

The drive to Long island is long and quiet. The only interruptions are Rusty asking which hospital, The Brookhaven Memorial Hospital Medical Center, and what friend. The question scares me. I don't really know why. I keep asking myself if I can really refer to her as that anymore. Didn't I ruin that part of my life? But before I know it, we're suddenly pulling up to the hospital and the questions in my head were shoved behind, replaced with a more urgent need. I had to find Monica.

I'm running up the stairs, and I can remotely feel Rusty's footsteps pounding up behind me, but I'm not thinking of that. I'm thinking about how my friend is in the hospital, and I don't know why the hell she's there. I breeze past the receptionist, and I see Monica's mother, standing with a very worried Ross. Rusty catches up with me, and I can feel his hand on my shoulder. Ross bristles at the sight of him but I ignore that too.

"Where's Monica?" I hear myself say, making no attempt to disguise the urgency in my voice.

"Honey. Calm down, she'll be fine."

"I need to see her!" I'm screaming.

"Okay, okay. Come with me." She says, and I calm down because I know I can see her.

I walk into her room, Rusty following behind me, and I gasp at what I see. She's sitting there, entirely made of bone, completely different than the Monica I knew and grew up with. She was the opposite. I walk up to her and brush her hair out of her face.

She's smiling at me, and I'm relieved that she's happy to see me. I don't know what I would have done if she wasn't.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Oh…" she murmurs weakly, "Nothing really…" And then she tries to change the subject. "Who's this?" she says in Rusty's direction. He looks away shyly, and I realize that my hand is in his. I blush and tell her:

"This is my… friend, Rusty. Rusty this is Monica." She smiles at him and I can see her analyzing him. There is slight clouding in her eyes and I know she's thinking he's another dumb pretty-boy. I'll just have to see. He shakes her hand and then looks towards me for further instructions.

I smile at him and said, "You can stay if you'd like."

"No…" he said, "I should get going." And then he gives me a concerned look and adds, "Do you have a ride? Cause I can pick you…"

"Hey. It's okay. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." I smile, "Thanks for driving me all the way up here… It's pretty far and I know you don't…"

"Hey." He interrupts, "No problem okay?"

I smile and he grins back and then kisses my forehead and leaves. She's shrieking as he closes the door. At first, I panic but now I am realizing that they are squeals of excitement.

"He's hot!" She is saying.

I smile wryly, "Yeah."

"Tell me everything."

"No."

"What?" Confusion is clouding her mind.

"Monica, we're not going to just pretend everything here is okay. We know it's not."

"But…"

"I need you to tell me first. What caused this? Was this my fault?"

She pales, if she can get any paler, and stutters, "It's nothing…:"

I scoff, "Right. You can't lie to me. Not to me."

"I'm not lying. It'll just go away…"

"Is it anorexia or bulimia?"

"What?" she starts laughing a very fake laugh.

"Tell me Monica."

"It's not either." She says.

I stare at her for awhile and then sigh, "Look Mon. I know you, okay? And I know anorexia. I've been there. I've done that."

She gasps at me, I continue, "I'm sorry to tell you this Mon. I know you'd lost some weight, but you were really fat."

She winces but doesn't speak so I continue, "There's no way you lose this much in such a little time."

"Both." She whispers.

"What?" I'm asking.

"It was both Rachel!" she cries. I'm speechless and she's sobbing, "You left me! Okay? And I know that's selfish, you were going through a lot but you left and you were helping me and keeping me on track and I got scared! I got scared that you'd be gone and I'd be a fat loser all over again."

She calms down a little and continues, "I'd have a tic tac and throw up, and god forbid if I had pasta on my birthday!" She's sobbing into my lap and I can't say anything besides, "It'll be fine. It'll be alright."

"I have to go to rehab Rachel." She's saying.

"What?" I exclaim.

"I have to leave. I'm going to L.A. tomorrow."

"Why L.A.?" I ask.

"They're saying that sun will do me good." She explains.

"Oh."

I hold her until she falls asleep. And then I lay there all night crying.


	4. Took a World of Trouble

**I don't know what it is with me and rehab… my last story had it too. REVIEW PEOPLE! GEEZ haha. The friends fanfic genre is losing readers. That's really sad.**

**Chapter 4: Monica**

I wake up and Rachel's asleep on the floor next to me. Today is the day that I'm leaving for L.A. In my opinion, sending me to the place where movie-stars live and where perfection is hailed probably isn't the best idea. But hey, I live in Long Island so anything is an improvement. They tell me it will only be a couple of weeks. They tell me I'll be fine. And maybe I will. But I just got my best friend back. Why the hell would I want to leave?

I can see her stirring in front of me and I know soon I'll have to say goodbye.

"Urg." She moans.

I grin. "Did you like sleeping on the floor?"

She groans, "I feel like my head exploded."

"Yeah?"

She ignores me, "Where am I again?"

I don't answer; instead I wait for it to hit her. And it does in time, and she's crying and saying, "Oh. Yeah. You have to leave."

I nod slowly. "Yeah."

"What time's your flight?"

I shrug, "Late."

"Can you hang out?" She asks.

"Probably," is my only reply.

She nods again. I smile at her.

An hour later we are walking out of the hospital. The nurses had detached me from my monitor, and the machines that bound me; I was home free. Or rather home free for a couple of hours.

Rachel said she's take me out, but we both knew she had no money. So we resorted to wandering the streets of Long Island aimlessly. Eventually, we reached a waterfront and sat down. I could tell she was itching to talk to me; only she didn't know how. So I initiated the conversation:

"So… You and… um…"

"Rusty," she finished smiling.

"Yeah. How's it going? Have you guys… you know?"

"Oh no!" she replied horrified, and I hide a little amusement. This was Rachel Green after all, the biggest slut in Long Island. "We're not even dating." She continued, "He's a… friend?"

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Yeah." She replies, slightly indignant and embarrassed.

"Usually your tongue would be down his throat by now!" I tease.

She blushes and murmurs, "Not yet."

"Oh but you want to!" I shriek.

"Yeah." She admits.

"You'll get him." I more tell her than assure her, "I've never known you to not get a guy."

"Yeah." She says softly, "But you know, Chip dumped me as soon as I lost my money…" she trailed off.

So Rachel Green has finally experienced heart-break! About time. "Hey! Chip was a fucking idiot. You know that." I grin wickedly, "They've started to shun him."

"What?" she exclaims surprised.

"Yeah. They won't talk to him now."

"Why?" She asks.

"Because without you, he's lost it. I mean before he had you and that made him like un-reachable. But then you left and people find him boring."

I can see this makes her happy. She's starting to smile again, and to regain some confidence. But it is true! Chip Matthews doesn't seem so hot anymore. Suddenly she shakes herself; I can see her stopping herself. From what? And now she smiles and turns to me and says, "So what about you hon? Now you're thin and gorgeous? All the boys come a-knockin'?"

I blush. "Not really."

She smirks, "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious! First of all, I'm no where near as pretty as you are!"

She smirks again, "Bullshit."

"Have you seen you?" I protest.

"Have you seen you?" she mirrors.

"Seriously Rach!"

She smiles at me and says, "It's not about looks. You probably don't know how to talk to guys."

"What?"

"It takes some getting used to." She explains.

"Oh."

She grins, "Do you wanna know how I learned?"

"Yeah!" I say, a little too eagerly.

She chuckles at my desperation, and I feel myself blushing, but she continues, "I used to watch A LOT of movies."

"You mean…"

"I mean boy get's girl who's… you know way out of their league."

As I mull this over in my head, she gets up and says, "Think about it honey. I need to go home. I know your mom called mine but still. She's gonna be a little pissed."

"Yeah. Okay." I say, and get up with her. She walks me back to the hospital where my parent's are waiting to give her a ride home. As I watch her get into the car, I realize this may be the last time I see her for awhile. That thought scares me more then anything.

As my father leaves, my Mom turns to me and says, "Now it's your turn."


	5. Took a World of Tears

**Chapter 5: Phoebe.**

I've been busted. Apparently there's been some sort of crack-down, but anyways the point is, I was caught with a lot of shit, and the police aren't liking it. It's cold here, and they're yelling at me. Telling me my parents would be ashamed of me. But it's hard to not laugh. It all seems so funny. The room keeps spinning and every once in awhile, if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear my dead mother calling to me. She's singing a song, and it makes me very happy. It goes, "Don't worry. About a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright."

If she's saying that, then I have to believe her. I mean she's my mother, why would she lie to me? Suddenly I turn and sitting there besides me is not my mother, but a small Jamaican man, with dreadlocks and a Mexican guitar. I can see his mouth form the words, but now no music is coming out. Suddenly, from behind him appeared two girls and three boys, and they took up instruments and immediately began to play.

And everything begins to go black…

* * *

I wake up in a cell. It's not the first time. I can feel the thumping in my head. It get's louder and louder and I want to scream but I bite my tongue. Screaming would mean waking up everyone around me. And waking them up would mean making a whole lot of enemies I don't want to make. The skin on my wrists is sore, and I rub them to try to get circulation back. I look around and sigh. The place is silently saying to me, "Welcome Home." This is my cell. I recognize every crack and dent in the walls. I can see the blood that I left punching the wall the first time I got thrown in for trying to buy a cigarette. I know that there is a tooth under the bed because I hid it there when our whore house was raided by the Popo. I can see the scratch marks from the games of tic-tac-toe I played with myself after I'd been caught breaking and entering someone's home. So here I am again… Home.

Isn't that sad?

* * *

It's been two hours since I woke up and already I've discovered two things. Number one: I have a Grandmother… who's alive. Number two: I'm going to go live with her. Oh yeah, and she lives in Chicago, so far away from New York.

Now I'm sitting in a police car, on the way back to the box I call my house. They told me to pack my things, and I'd agree because I'm thinking I can make a run for it. I have no things to pack. And if this is the last time I see New York, I want to say goodbye to my friends first.

I can already see a gathering around my home. The police let me out, and they surround me, obviously determined not to let me escape. They eye my friends suspiciously, but they already know not to fight with the Po Po. I turn and ask them if I can say goodbye to my friends. And in turn I hug each of them. I get to Joey and I stop and I smile because I know he would too in this case. He hugs me and gives me on of his many rings that I suspect are stolen, saying, "This is my good luck one Pheebs. You'll be fine."

I nod and turn to Rachel who is next to him. Apparently she'd just returned from visiting a friend in Long Island when Rusty tracked her down and pulled her here. I smile at her because I know she's more scared for me then I am. Then I turn to Rusty who stands behind her and say, "Take care of her for me okay?"

He nods and grins, "You'll be fine Pheebs."

I nod. And then I make a run for it. But I knew it was useless before I started. They catch me and dump me into the car, and I watch as my friends turn into a blur behind me.

They deposit me at some airport with this portly fellow to guard me. I consider running again but figure what's the point? I have family. I might as well meet her. The airport is crowded, and it's very fascinating. I've never been inside one before, and there are so many people. Dressed in such nice clothes. I look down at my own and I know I don't belong here. But the same can probably be said about the fat slung slumping next to me, chomping away at donuts and popping out of his chopper uniform. I already hate him.

There are several magazine stands, and I ask him if I can go look at some and he just grunts at me. So I go over and browse. I'm mainly looking at pictures because my reading skill is very limited. And suddenly… There he is. There on the cover of some magazine is the man I saw in my hallucinations. I struggle to read the headline, it says something about 13 years, and then some long word and then Bob Marley… and then death. Standing behind him are the two of the three men I saw. Just as I'm about to pass out, the chopper comes back and hoards me into some line.

"What's wrong?" he says, "You look like you've seen a ghost."


	6. Took a Long Time

**Chapter 6: Rachel**

Two friends in one day. I've lost two friends in one day. Mr. Geller had just dropped me off, when Rusty pulls up to my driveway. I remember smiling at him, and then feeling my smile fall off at the solemn face he wore.

"Phoebe's been arrested." He said, and I remember feeling the air tense. I remember not daring to utter a word in response, because I knew the news would be confirmed true.

Finally he continued on his own, as it became pretty evident that I wouldn't reply. "It's not her first time." So I relaxed slightly. Maybe they'll just slap her hands again, and send her out. But then he added, "They're sending her away."

I remember freezing. I'd just heard those words from my best friend; I didn't think I could handle hearing them again. Finally I manage to stutter, "Where?"

"Chicago."

"Oh." Was all I could say.

He grabbed my hand and I just stared at it for a second, and then he pulled me along saying, "You need to come with me."

When I got there, Phoebe had just arrived to pick up her stuff, not that there was much to pick up. I spoke to her a little, gave her a little hug, and then she was gone. That was that. I'd probably never see her again, and besides Rusty, she was the only person I knew in this group. What the hell am I gonna do now?

I look at my hands and realize that they are still in his… In Rusty's large tanned roughened hands. He pulls me along and says, "Let's go somewhere."

"Where are we going?" I say.

"You'll see." He says smiling.

I keep bugging him, but he won't give out any information, and he won't confirm or deny any of my guesses. So I just keep blabbing until we end up in front of a small restaurant. I grin up at him, because it's a nice restaurant, and say, "You can't afford that!"

He laughs at me, and I wrinkle my nose in protest, but he explains, "The owner… Well I model for his daughter's clothing store, so they pretty much give me whatever free food I want." He looks away, and I can tell he's slightly embarrassed.

I grin, speechless, and he leads me inside. The moment he walks through the door, a small, rather heavy man comes shooting from the kitchen, yelling "Rusty!" as he comes towards us. Before I know it, Rusty, and myself, are both crushed together against the chest of this animated man. He's blabbing away already, and I find my head spinning trying to keep up with the dialogue. "Rusty! Baby!" was all I could catch at first, and then "Oh! And who's the beautiful lady? Is this your girlfriend? Eh? She's a pretty one!" This time it is both of us blushing. Then he leads us to a booth in the back and brings out two wine glasses. I don't dare mention that we are under twenty one, because he is hell bent on giving us the best wine he can find. Besides, a little alcohol never hurt anyone. It's just a lot of it...

I watch the wine being poured into glasses in front of us. I picked up a glass and toasted, "To…" I didn't know how to finish, and felt a little stupid, when Rusty picked up his glass and finished, "Free food?"

I grin at him and agree, "Free food."

After we'd settled in, and bread had been delivered to our table, I sighed. Rusty took notice and asked me, "What's wrong?"

I smile at him, "No no. Nothing's wrong. I just… Haven't eaten like this is so long. I kinda missed it."

He grins and says, "Oh. Well we can eat like this a lot more if you want… I have… a lot of friends."

I smile at him, "I'd like that."

"Okay." He says.

"So." I begin in a teasing voice, "Tell me, how'd you get so popular?"

He chuckles, "Well. I got a few modeling gigs for a few people around here, and I do it for next to nothing so… And then my parent's are friends with everyone."

"Oh…" I grin at him, and feeling a little bold, I reach across and grab his hand saying, "I kinda figured it was cause you're… you know." I say, gesturing to his face, "And… you know." Running my fingers up his arms.

He smiles at me and touches my face, and then I can feel his lips against mine. **I** smile and kiss him, strangely feeling happier then I've ever been.


	7. To Get Back Here

**Chapter 7: Phoebe.**

**Author's note: **I'm rocking out to aerosmith. Aren't they awesome? Anyways, I think this is it for me for awhile, I'm getting busier and busier at school and this isn't generating much interest so. Thanks for reading anyone! Oh. I started writing a Brad and Jen fic at so... Yeah.

I feel drawn to him. This man who I somehow know in my hallucinate state. He sings to me. Not to the rest of the world, they think they've got him figured out, apparently he's famous, but he sings to ME. He's singing my song. I awoke a couple of minutes ago to find myself slumped in an airplane chair, and that's the first thought that came to me… I'm gonna find out everything I can about that man. Or I'm gonna die trying.

The pilot is saying that we are landing soon, and in half an hour I'm going to see my grandmother. I'm going to see the only family I have. I'm not sure how I felt about that. I'd always trusted the family that I had made. The friends that I called family. Fat-ass next to me is stirring, and he struggles against the seat belt that is too tight to contain his fucking pot belly. 'You have money, go to the gym!' I want to scream. But he only grunts, and sputters before falling back asleep.

By the time the plane lands, I've finished counting the amount of hairs he has on his chin, and am seriously considering counting his eye-lashes, but luckily, the plane hits the ground. Except I've never been on a plane before, so this catches me by surprise. As I start cussing out the world, the rest of the plane directs their attention towards me, and Fat-ass tells them not to worry, and that he has me under control. 'Yeah. Whatever.' As I walk off the plane, a mother carefully covers her kid's ears, 'Bitch.' I'm thinking, but before I can cuss her out too, I'm escorted off the plane and into the airport.

Fat-ass leads me towards a lady with graying hair, and a knitted over-sized sweat-shirt. I can hear her muttering under her breathe, and repeatedly marking seven spots in the air with her hands. I assume she's my grandmother, and since boldness has never been my problem I ask her, "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's respect." She answered nervously.

"I thought there was only four points to a cross…"

"This isn't catholic honey." She replied.

"Oh…" I say confused, "Then what are you doing?"

"It's the seven points of a pitch-fork honey." She explains.

"So you…" I begin.

"God undermined the devil!" she bursts out.

Oh shit. My grandmother is a freak.

"Okay…" I say, as she glances around nervously. Then she picks up my bags and says, "Hurry, hurry, the lord is everywhere, the lord is everywhere."

I roll my eyes and then follow her, until once again, I see him. It's the same cover, and it hypnotizes me. I move closer to the rack and quietly slip it under my shirt. I check to see if the cashier notices, but she's too busy playing with her tongue ring, and snapping her bubble gum. I smile and then race to catch up with my grandmother, who is now muttering, "The Lord is no shepherd, with him, you'll always want, he burns up green pastures and stirs up the still waters…"

I roll my eyes and follow her into an old beat up taxi… This is going to be so weird.

The entire ride back home, I'm sitting in the back seat and flipping through the picture of Bobby. That's right. I've already nicknamed him, because I know him. I need to get high as soon as I can so I can see him again. I need to see him. I have to see him.

We arrive at a shabby apartment building near the slums of Chicago, and my grandmother glances around quickly before opening the apartment and then shoving me in, and scrambling behind me.

Her apartment isn't nice, but anything is better then my box. There are candles everywhere, and I notice that the light switch has been ripped off the wall. She shows me to a corner, that she has boxed in which hosts a mattress and an oil lamp. She's giving me a tour, and I find that her kitchen is stocked full of chicken top ramen, and diet coke, and little much else.

I tell her I want to go out and explore but she shouts, "Wait! The Lord is everywhere!" and then rips some straw off a broom and sprinkles it over me. "Okay. All good now."

I start to walk out and then I realize there's another room in her apartment and then ask, "Why can't I have that room?"

"Oh… That's Mike's room." She replies, as if it's no big deal.

"Who the hell is Mike?" I ask.

"Oh. He's a law student at the U of Chicago, and he's rooming with me."

"Oh… Okay." I say, and then turn to leave.

I'm so high right now. Or maybe I'm drunk. I don't know. I don't care anymore. I'm waiting for him to come to me, and sure enough he does. He reaches out to grab my hand and says, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I say, "are you coming to save me?"

"Are you high?" He says with a concerned face.

"Yeah baby." I say, smiling up at him.

"Free looooooooooooooove." I drone, "Free love babe, free love bobbie."

"I'm not…" he says confused, "Who's…"

"Bobbie?" I continue, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not… I'm Mike."

"You're not Bobbie?" I ask, disappointment starting to gnaw in my stomach.

"No I'm not Bobbie." He says gently, "But I'm here for you okay? I'm gonna help you out."

I pause and then nod, "Okay… I just want to sleep."

"Okay… You want to tell me your name?"

I try to remember my name, finally all I can say is, "Pheebs."

"Pheebs," he repeats, and then says it again, "Pheebs… Oh shit. You're Phoebe?"

"Yeah!" I exclaim giggling.

"You're my new roommate…"

"Really?" I ask.

He just looks at me and then says, "I'm going to take you inside."

I nod, and then I feel myself being lifted. Then… Darkness.


End file.
